


Got to Go

by chibiotaku4life



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Heavy Angst, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2018-10-31 12:09:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10899072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibiotaku4life/pseuds/chibiotaku4life
Summary: Frisk has a good reason for committing genocide. Perhaps by FIGHTing, she reasons, she can SAVE everyone.





	1. Prologue

Frisk had freed them all. Or, almost all. Maybe it was the haunted look in sans’ eyes when he thought no one was looking. Maybe it was the whispers she caught from the strange grey creatures that disappeared upon a second glance. Maybe it was even the strange machine behind the skelebros’ house. But there were three that she hadn’t saved, and that wasn’t good enough. She just needed power.

She already had the power to reset, but that couldn’t help her. She needed to control the entirety of spacetime to retrieve  _ him _ . For monsters, the path to that kind of power lay in consuming souls. For her, however…

She shivered. They were all so happy. She knew of only one way to take a monster’s soul. How could she take this brave new world from them and plunge them each into such a hell?

It would be okay. They couldn’t remember. With  _ him _ , they could reset together, and no one would ever know. With  _ him,  _ she could save her two best friends.


	2. The Catacombs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the ruins

Her hand trembles as she opens the place where she kept the Reset button. 

Flowey pops up, and everything goes dark but him. “Hi,” he says. “Seems as if everyone is perfectly happy. Monsters have returned to the surface. Peace and prosperity will rule across the land.” Frisk draws a shuddering breath. She  _ knows  _ that.

He smiles. “Take a deep breath. There’s nothing left to worry about.” 

There is an awkward pause. “... Well. There is one thing.” The smile slides off his face. “One last threat. One being with the power to erase EVERYTHING… Everything everyone’s worked so hard for.” A rock seems to have settled into her stomach, sharp as ice and heavy as death.

“You know who I’m talking about, don’t you?” He smiles, frowns, then smiles again. “That’s right. I’m talking about YOU. YOU still have the power to reset everything. Toriel, Sans, Asgore, Alphys, Papyrus, Undyne… If you so choose… Everyone will be ripped from this timeline… ...and sent back before all of this ever happened. Nobody will remember anything. You’ll be able to do whatever you want.” She’s not doing this because she wants to!

“... That power. I know that power. That’s the power you were fighting to stop, wasn’t it? The power that I wanted to use. But now, the idea of resetting everything… I… I don’t think I could do it all again. Not after that. … So, please. Just let go. Be happy. Live your life.” Tears stream down her face. She wants nothing more than that, but she  _ can’t _ .

“... But. If I can’t change your mind. If you DO end up erasing everything …” He smiles weakly. “… You have to erase my memories, too.” 

“... I’m sorry. You’ve probably heard this a hundred times already, haven’t you?” She shakes her head vigorously, desperately, but he doesn’t notice.

“... Well. That’s all. See you later.” A small cry escapes Frisk as she starts forward, arm outstretched to the place where he disappears. Then, before the last light of the sunset outside her new bedroom window can change her mind, she slams her hand down on the Reset button, and all goes black.

Frisk wakes up in a familiar patch of golden flowers. She just lays there for a while, unable to find the determination to move. Finally, she pushes herself up, clutching the small stick that fell with her. 

Slowly, legs heavy, she walks through the ornate archway at the end of the hallway, turning her back on the little bit of sunlight that filtered into the mountain.

“Howdy! I’m Flowey! Flowey the Flower!” he says, with his familiar shit-eating grin.  _ I’m going to save you, Asriel.  _ Frisk thinks.  _ Just hold on. _

“Golly,” Flowey is saying, “you must be so confused. Someone ought to teach you how things work around here!”

“I know,” Frisk says in a monotone. “It’s kill or be killed, right?”

“Ah-hah-hah-hah-ha!” Flowey laughs that creepy laugh of his, where multiple echoes layered strangely upon each other and it created the beginning shocks of an earthquake in her brain. “So you know how this works. Let’s play, then.” His face contorts demonically, and Frisk’s soul glowed red. 

A circle of seeds starts closing in around her, and she pales as it approached. Maybe she had rushed the dialogue too much. Maybe Toriel wouldn’t come on time. She shrinks into a ball as the first seed presses against her heart.

A fireball appears out of the dimness, and confusion fills Flowey’s small face. Then he shrieks as he is flung aside, and disappears from view. Toriel runs into the small patch of light, skirts in hand.

“What a terrible creature, torturing such a poor, innocent youth…” she says, her voice soft and gentle.  _ Oh, if only you knew,  _ Frisk thinks, with a strange desire to both laugh and cry. 

“Ah, do not be afraid, my child.” Toriel says, mistaking the reason for her trembling. “I am Toriel, caretaker of the ruins. I pass through this place every day to see if anyone has fallen down. You are the first human to come here in a long time. Come, I will guide you through the catacombs.”

“This way,” she says, turning and walking through a similar ornate archway, emblazoned with the same simple crest.

“Catacombs?” Frisk feels her mouth move without thinking, and winces as Toriel turned back. Toriel smiles, but it seems forced. “Ah, do not worry, child. That is a name from the distant past. I meant the ruins, of course.” She turns, the smile slipping from her face as she did. Frisk is not too slow to notice.

Frisk follows her through the archway. “The shadow of the ruins looms above, filling you with determination,” says the small voice in the back of her head Frisk has learned to trust. Her childish companion has helped her many a time before.

Frisk saves and walks up the hard stone steps. 

“Welcome to your new home, innocent one,” and Frisk’s heart aches. How could she ever tell her mom that she had to kill her, to save someone she didn’t know necessarily deserved to be saved? And there was the strange grey pallor, the way that none of these creatures lingered anywhere long, the life-sucking chill in the room behind the cracked grey door - how could she know if the same thing would happen to anyone, at least anyone without her levels of determination, who heard his name? That they would disappear from existence, fading in and out forever? The souls of most of the monsters in the underground would hardly be enough to save him, if the calculations she had made based off the translations of the notes in Sans’ back room had been correct. She couldn’t risk it.

Meanwhile, Toriel had solved the puzzle and waits for Frisk to step forward. She looks at her strangely, and Frisk wonders briefly if her mom can read minds. She shakes off the chill that runs down her back and follows.

In the next room, Frisk flips the labelled switches.

“Splendid! I am proud of you!” Toriel says, and Frisk cringes at the praise. “Let us move to the next room.”

“As a human living in the underground, monsters may attack you,” Toriel says as Frisk enters the room. Frisk resisted the urge to hang her head. “You will need to be prepared for this situation.” Toriel’s voice fades out as Frisk’s vision tunnels. She walks numbly over to the dummy.  _ This one’s only a dummy _ , she thinks.  _ You’ll have to do much worse than this.  _

She still shakes as her soul starts to glow. She gingerly reaches her hand back, then punches the dummy, hard. She stifles a cry as it crumbles into dust, coating her in the thick powder. She conceals her watering eyes with a sneeze. 

“Ahh, the dummies are not for fighting! They are for talking!” Toriel says. “We do not want to hurt anybody, do we…?” There is the slightest quaver of uncertainty in her voice, and the slightest of pauses before she speaks again. “Come now.”

Numbly, Frisk follows, nodding to Toriel’s muted words. Then she encounters Froggit. Her breathing ragged, Frisk clenches her hands and slashes out blindly with her stick. More dust settles upon her as Froggit crumbles. She shakes and continues after Toriel, who seems unaware of what just transpired behind her. 

Toriel takes her hand to lead her through the spikes, and Frisk gasps at the warm softness of it. Tears spring to her eyes, and she swallows through a closed throat, choking them back. She pushes her feelings away, distancing herself in order to keep a straight face.

Frisk vaguely recognizes the next room. Toriel explains something to her - that she would have to walk to the end of the room on her own, she remembered. Toriel strides quickly away, her long legs carrying her more quickly than Frisk could have followed, even if her legs    weren’t numb and shaking. Frisk stumbles forward, seeing Toriel’s shadow peeking out from behind the large, conspicuous pillar. 

Toriel hands Frisk her cell phone and she accepts, staring fixedly at it. She heads off, presumably to gather the ingredients for the pie. That’s what Frisk recalls. She decides now she wiil listen, hang on to their every precious word. She can’t afford to lose herself to the task. That would create a true monster, in the sense that humans understood the term.

As she steps into the next room, her phone rings. Her hand steadies a little as she picks it up, hearing Toriel’s voice in her ear.

“Hello? This is Toriel.” Frisk smiles, though the pain lingers in her eyes. “You have not left the room, have you? There are a few puzzles ahead that I have yet to explain. It would be dangerous to try to solve them yourself. Be good, alright?”

_ I’m sorry, mom,  _ she thinks.  _ I  _ can’t  _ be good. But you don’t have to worry about me.  _ She lets out a choked laugh.  _ I’m not the one in danger. _

Playfully crinkling through the leaves fills you with determination, the voice says. I’m doing this for her, too, Frisk reminds herself. She lets out a sigh. Child, Toriel calls her, but she left that behind long ago.

She encounters another Froggit, and this time doesn’t hesitate, stepping through the dust before it settles. She can’t afford to linger over things that will be reset eventually anyway.

Then she recalls something, and walks up. She grabs a handful of monster candy, knocking over the bowl in the process, and stuffs it in her pocket. She knows she’ll need it later.

She exits, walking around until she encounters monster after monster, mainly Whimsuns. She strikes true each time, until she coughs from the white powder that fills the air.

She slashes more quickly each time, dodging a multitude of attacks and being hit by almost as many. 

Finally she wipes a streak of blood from her mouth with the back of her hand and charges the remaining Migosp, who now that they are alone is dancing to their own beat. Frisk hesitates just slightly, then brings the stick down once, twice. The deed is done.

Her soul starts to glow, and an ominous feeling falls upon her like warm standing water on a summer day. She rolls her shoulders. But nobody came, whispers the voice at the back of her head.

After some time, her phone rings.

“He-hello?” she stammers.

“Hello? This is Toriel. For no reason in particular…” Toriel paused for a second. “Which do you prefer? Cinnamon or butterscotch?”

“B-butterscotch,” Frisk manages. She can almost smell the cinnamon-butterscotch pie scent wafting through Home. Why does everyone have to be so nice?

“Oh, I see,” Toriel replies. “Thank you very much!”

There is a click as she hangs up. Frisk walks a few steps before the phone rings again.

“Hello? This is Toriel. You do not  _ dislike  _ cinnamon, do you? I know what your preference is, but… Would you turn up your nose if you found it on your plate?”

“No,” Frisk sighs.

“Right, right, I understand. Thank you for being patient, by the way.”

The phone clicks off again, then rings after Frisk moves past the now-disabled puzzle.

“You do not have any allergies do you?”

“No…” says Frisk.

“Huh? Why am I asking?” Toriel says, misreading the silence. “No reason… No reason at all.”

Click. She hangs up.

Frisk easily moves past the pitfall puzzle, her heart hammering heavily as she speaks to the stubborn rock. At least she doesn’t have to fight it. It’s just a rock.

After she crosses over the spikes, she decides to try something. It isn’t a monster, but perhaps…

“Hey,” she calls back in a throaty stage whisper. “Does the name Gaster mean anything to you?”

“The rock turns even grayer than it had been, if that was possible.

“Can’t say that it does,” it says, in a monotone so unlike it’s usually high-pitched, accented voice.

Without a word, Frisk crosses into the next room, then turns back. The rock is gone, and the spikes block her way back. Well, she thinks, at least that answers that question. When she saves, the voice only says,  _ determination. _

Napstablook lies across the path a few rooms later, and Frisk tries to force him to move. A flicker of annoyance passes through the back of her mind, but she pushes it away. She flies from foot to foot, protecting her soul from the ectoplasmic tears that threaten and pausing to pant for breath when he said “Not really feeling up to it right now, sorry.”

After not too long, she slashes across with what should have been a killing blow.

“umm…. you do know you cant kill ghosts, right? we’re sorta incoporeal and all. i was just lowering my hp because i didnt want to be rude. Sorry… i just made this more awkward… pretend you beat me… oooooooooo”

Napstablook fades, and Frisk feels the small amount of power she had gathered drop just a bit.  _ No _ , she panics, her heart pounding faster and more painfully, like it was trying to break free of her chest. She needed all the power - She could live without killing him, if it was impossible, but how could - she couldn’t do this over again, it would have to be enough ( _ please let it be enough _ )

She continues, letting the spinning of her mind unravel her tangled thoughts, buying a spider donut and some spider cider from the webs. The thought springs to her mind to stomp on the spiders, and she pushes it away, shuddering. There would be enough death already, and they weren’t monsters.

Chills keep running down her back, as if someone was watching her.  _ But nobody came _ , the voice in her head said, mocking her.

The phone rings.

“Hello?” It’s Toriel, of course. “I just realized that it has been a while since I have cleaned up. I was not expecting to have company so soon. There are probably a lot of things lying about here and there. You can pick them up, but do not carry more than you need. Someday you might see something you really like. You will want to leave room in your pockets for that.” Frisk doesn’t even hear the click as she hangs up. 

That’s right. She has to think about what she is going to carry. Not all monsters will be easy to - um, to,  _ oh god no _

Frisk starts humming an old lullaby to distract herself from that train of thought.

Floating part-weightlessly through one of the pitfalls, she finds the faded ribbon. She puts it on with shaking hands. Though she is unable to steady them, a thought comes to her. She is going to have to stop being so emotional about all this. Otherwise, she’ll never accomplish her goal. And, after all, this isn’t going to be a permanent thing. She  _ will  _ reset.

She continues with an infinitesimally lighter heart. Pushing the switch under one of the pitfalls, she walks until she comes to the room with the view of the old city, tall and stately buildings crumbling to dust with age and disuse. She picks up the toy knife, throwing away the stick in the process. It makes her uncomfortable, even though it is only a toy, but she grasps it firmly and moves on.

“Oh dear, that took longer than I thought it would,” Toriel’s voice rings through the room in front of her house. She runs forward, her phone to her ear, then a look of surprise crosses her face as she sees Frisk.

“How did you get here, my child?” Toriel says, rushing over. “Are you hurt?” Concern is evident in the pinch of her eyes. “There, there, I will heal you.” A rush of energy, like a breath of mountain air, passes from her outstretched hand to Frisk, revitalizing her.

“I should not have left you alone for so long,” she continues, smiling sadly. “It was irresponsible to try and surprise you like this. Err…” she trails off, putting a hand to her face. “Well I suppose I cannot hide it any longer. Come, small one.”

Frisk’s stomach twists as she walks away and the faint smell of butterscotch wafts towards her. She takes a deep breath, feeling the musty air settle into her lungs, and follows her.

_ Determination, _ the voice says. 

As Frisk enters the home, Toriel is waiting for her. “Do you smell that?” she asks, smiling. “Surprise!” The smile crinkles her eyes. “It is a butterscotch-cinnamon pie. I thought we might celebrate your arrival.”

Frisk’s throat tenses and a feelings of spidery heat runs up and down her esophagus. She swallows, and continues listening.

“I want you to have a nice time living here. So I will hold off on snail pie for tonight. Here, I have another surprise for you.” Toriel turns and walks to the right with long strides.

Frisk follows Toriel into the hall, blinking rapidly and swallowing with difficulty.

“This is it,” Toriel says, and takes her by the hand. Frisk wants to hold her hand as hard as she can, in fact she wants to throw her arms around Toriel and bury her face in her chest, but instead only grasps the offered hand lightly.

“This is it,” Toriel proclaims proudly. “A room of your own! I hope you like it.” She rubs Frisk’s head, and Frisk lets out a heavy breath.

Suddenly, the tops of Toriel’s ears perk up. “Um, is something burning…?” she says quickly. “Make yourself at home!” She rushes off, picking up her skirts as she runs, leaving Frisk to enter the room alone.

Frisk climbs on the bed wearily, not even bothering to take off her shoes. She falls into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

When she wakes, the first thing she sees is the slice of pie Toriel has left for her. She snuggles under the weight of the quilt that has been tucked over her and does not move for probably half an hour. Finally, she thinks,  _ it’s like taking off that bandage. It’s less painful to do it all at once. _

She follows the hallway down to the left. She finds Toriel sitting in a comfy armchair, reading a book with small eyeglasses perched on her nose. It is a homey scene.

“Up already, I see?” she says when Frisk makes a small noise and pats her knee. Um, I want you to know how glad I am to have someone here. There are so many old books I want to share. I want to show you my favorite bug-hunting spot. I’ve also prepared a curriculum for your education. This may come as a surprise to you… But I have always wanted to become a teacher.” Her eyes narrow. “Actually, perhaps that isn’t very surprising. STILL.” Her face resumes its calm, comforting expression. “I am glad to have you living here. Oh, did you want something? What is it” Her eyes focus back on Frisk.

_ We’re not going to be able to do those things,  _ Frisk thinks sadly, then reasons,  _ but even when I didn’t kill her, we didn’t. And I am going to reset. _

“I want to go home,” Frisk says simply.

“What?” Toriel says, about to try to distract her, but Frisk persists.

“Please,” she says, deviating from the script she followed the last time.

“But-”

“Mom,” Frisk says, and the look in her eyes must convince Toriel, because she stands.

“... I have to do something,” she says in a rush. “Stay here.”

Despite Frisk’s earlier resolution, her mind is buzzing so much with the knowledge of the upcoming battle, like static across a screen, that she can’t hear Toriel’s warning about Asgore. She pursues her to the door, and as Toriel raises her arms, fire flickering into existence, she strikes.

Jumping forward. Two slashes of the toy knife, as the first one almost misses and rips into her face. Make it quick, painless. But she cannot manage even that.

“Y... you really hate me that much?” Toriel asks, and Frisk longs to cry,  _ no!  _ But she is as silent as if she is possessed.

“Now I see who I was protecting by keeping you here. Not you... but them! Ha… ha…” she gasps, then turns to dust in a fluid downward spiral. The dust itself spirals upward, then settles like snow. Her soul persists for a second, shivering in the air, then cracks, falling into pieces and disappearing.

Frisk knows she cannot stop. She wades through the dust, passing through the door without a backward glance. 

“Hahaha,” Flowey greets her, laughing, already speaking. “You’re not really human, are you.”  _ No.  _ “No, you’re empty inside.”  _ Yes.  _ “Just like me.”  _ No, not yet.  _ “In fact… You’re Chara, aren’t you?” A chill runs down her spine, as Flowey speaks a name she does not know but that somehow sends intense deja vu shuddering through her. It was not the name she had given, Lilly.

“Oh yes,” Flowey says. “Still inseparable after all these years. Should I tell you my plans to become even more powerful than you and your stolen soul? If I do, we can destroy everything in this awful world together.” He disappears from sight.


	3. Snowdust

Snowdust

As Frisk steps through the archway, she feels the air grow suddenly chill. She shivers, her air puffing out in front of her as she steps with a crunch into thick snow.

She follows the straight path, aware of Sans behind her. The crack of the stick booms percussively in her ears, and his shadow looms in the corner of her eye. She stops when she gets to the bridge, shuffling her feet nervously.

“Human,” he finally says, and she turns, unable to bear it any longer. Sans’ brow twitches, but he offers his hand. She takes it, and the sound of the whoopie cushion breaks the tense silence.

Frisk’s face stays blank. She doesn’t find a trick like that funny, not now.

“heheh… the old whoopie cushion in the hand trick. it’s ALWAYS funny…” He pauses, searching Frisk’s face intently, but she just stares wearily back. “that’s, uh. your cue to laugh. or, uh, to emote at all?”

He pauses again, then mutters to himself, “gee, lady, you really know how to pick ‘em, huh?”

“ok, that’s fine,” he continues at a normal volume. “everyone’s got their own sense of humor. I’m sans. Sans the skeleton.”

Frisk listens to him explain how he is on watch, then goes through the gate when hen Sans tells her to hide behind the conveniently-shaped lamp, however, she refuses, legs heavy.

“Uh, ok.” Sans shrugs. “I guess you don’t have to.”

Papyrus strides up quickly. “Sans!!!” he barks, “Have you found a human yet?!!?”

“Yeah.” Sans winks.

“Really!?!?” Papyrus asks. “Wowie!!! Guess that’s settled!!” He strides off, and Frisk chokes on something that it half-laugh, half-sob. Poor, innocent Papyrus.

“That worked out, huh?” Sans says nonchalantly, but his eyes bore into Frisk. She quickly and stiffly follows the path away. Somehow, it seems that Sans knows what she is planning - at least to a point. She doesn’t think he understands why.

As she is about to move out of earshot, Sans speaks up, stopping her cold in her tracks.

“Well, I’ll be straightforward with you,” he says. “My brother’d really like to see a human… So, y’know, it’d really help me out… if you kept pretending to be one.”

A chill shudders through Frisk that has nothing to do with the snow. She hears his footsteps receding, and unnerved, starts walking again.

Frisk saves a little further down the path, and the familiar voice has something new to say.

“16 left,” it says expressionlessly, and she quails suddenly. She picks up the tough glove in the box with shaking hands, her skin warm in blotchy patches.

She encounters Snowdrake, and punches him hard - left right left - three times. He is still standing, and Frisk barely hears his bad ice puns as she easily dodges his attack and hits him again. He turns to dust, and Frisk turns away, heading farther down the path.

The Icecaps she runs into she kills easily, at least physically. Her throat still tightens, and the sick thread that winds through her chest, though smaller, still remains. She continues, however.

Finally, she runs into Lesser Dog, and her stomach turns, nearly making her throw up.  _ He’s a  _ dog, she thinks, as he pants and wags his tail, happily oblivious to her intentions. She hits it, one two three, and its ears go down, it’s tail tucking between its legs with a cowed expression on its face. It jumps towards her half-heartedly, and she dodges, hitting it again once. It turns to dust, spreading outward from the impact, coating her arm.

Frisk wants to fall to her knees, but she forces herself to keep going. This is not the first awful thing she has done, and its not going to be the last.

She continues to kill the monsters she comes across. Finally, she continues down the path, meeting Sans and Papyrus.

“So Sans!!!” Papyrus is saying, and Frisk finds his voice grating on her ears. “When is the human showing up??? I want to look my Sunday best…” he gives Sans a sideways glance, “or at least my Tuesday pretty good.”

They continue bantering, and Frisk waits dully for Papyrus to spot her. She can at least give him that before she kills him.

Unlike before, Papyrus notices the rock before he notices her, and berates Sans for pointing out such a mundane object.

“Hey, what’s that in front of the rock?” Sans asks.

“Oh my god!!!” Papyrus exclaims, then “I have no idea what that is.” He looks slightly distressed.

“Well,” Sans says. “it’s not a rock.

“Not a rock…?” Papyrus looks thoughtful. “Oh no!!! By process of elimination!!! That means it’s a human!!!”

Frisk feels sick to her stomach. Is she already not even recognizable? Maybe it’s the hardened look in her eyes, or the dust coating her skin. She knows that she no longer feels completely human. She feels like a monster, in the traditional sense of the word.

Papyrus laughs, and Frisk pulls herself back together as he storms off excitedly.

“And you don’t even bat an eye, huh?” Sans asks, and Frisk forces herself to stare right back at him. He walks away.

You walk right past Papyrus’s royal guard station. Her footsteps echo loud in her ears, so she is surprised that Doggo doesn’t hear her. She strikes before she can think about it, one two three, pause, one two three, and walks on. 

Though she never before consumed the snowman piece, she knows that it has strong regenerative abilities. She goes to the snowman and takes three pieces, though the snowman begs her not to. “A useless pile of snow,” the voice in the back of her head remarks.

Frisk comes across Sans and Papyrus again. Papyrus’s loud voice makes her grimace. It is muted, however, not in volume, but in diction, as if the words are blurred. She walks forward quickly, and Papyrus looks distinctly rattled. 

He starts dripping, then his shoulders settle as he sighs and his face assumes an expression of disappointment. He turns and walks away.

Frisk moves past the disabled ball game. At Sans’ puzzle, she indistinctly catches the words Junior Jumble, and this time, Papyrus doesn’t argue with Sans.

When she saves by the spaghetti “trap”, all she hears is,  _ Determination. _

The puzzle near the snow switch is disabled.

Dogamy and Dogaressa show up. Frisk attacks Dogamy first. One two three. Dodge the hearts, staying still as the blue ones float through her. One two three. They are both trying to shield each other, wielding their axes protectively. They both attack with their axes, and they slice painful gashes across your arm and leg.

One two three. Dogamy turns to dust.

A wild gleam appears in Dogaressa’s eye. Frisk idly wonders how Dogamy would have reacted had she killed her first, then her heart swoops down into her stomach as she realizes how horrible that is. The guilt is not as overwhelming as it used to be, though.

Dogaressa’s axe moves twice as fast.  A slash across Frisk’s face, her side. She kills her slightly more easily. Though she was angry, despair must have weakened her.

Frisk continues.

The next two puzzles are disabled.

She starts crossing the color tiles, and Papyrus looks exasperated. He and Sans seem to be arguing.

He asks Frisk a question, but it doesn’t register. Frisk stares straight ahead robotically, and Papyrus narrows his eyes,  _ still  _ talking. He drops a paper in the snow, throws his hands in the air, and stalks off.

Lesser Doggo’s snow sculptures are replaced by a mushy pile of snow in the path. It looks like dust.

The snow poff at the end of the snow poff area turns into Greater Doggo. Frisk attacks once, and again. Greater Doggo pants slowly, seeming to be badly injured. She finishes him off with a final hard blow, feeling slightly more than a twinge of remorse.

As she crosses the narrow stone that’s been painted to look like a wooden bridge, Frisk shakes some dust off of the tough glove. Papyrus is waiting for her on the other side. He rambles on about the “gauntlet of deadly terror” but doesn’t activate it. The buzzing in Frisk’s ears has diminished, but the quieting lowing of the wind obscures some of their words. 

“Maybe you were right to be lazy about puzzles,” she hears Papyrus say, and though it doesn’t provoke any emotion, something in her chest tightens. He looks crushed for a second, then laughs it off. His high-pitched voice drives the ache in her chest away.

At the end of the bridge, Sans motions for her to walk over. She does, intrigued.

“I’ll spare the formalities,” he says, and Frisk feels a slight hitch, like a ripple in reality. She’s felt it once before, with Flowey, after killing Toriel, but she didn’t pay much attention to it then. She was, after all, racked with the useless emotion grief.

Sans snaps his fingers in her face, prompting a surge of anger from her.

“So it seems you’re gonna fight my brother. You wanna have a bad time? No? Then word of advice:” his eyes go blank, “Don’t.”

He vanishes, and Frisk raises an eyebrow, continuing on.

She enters Snowdin Town. The shop is deserted, and Frisk takes the manly bandana, as many cinnamon bunnies as she can carry, and 758 gold from behind the counter. She’s not worried about her fight with Papyrus, knowing how weak he is, but she senses it is a good idea anyway. On the counter she spies a note: “Please don’t hurt my family.” Frisk scoffs.

In town, she spies Monster Kid and walks up to him, clenching her hand into a fist.

“Yo, everyone ran away and hid somewhere. Man, adults can be so dumb sometimes, haha… Don’t they know we’ve got Undyne to protect us?!” He talks quickly, and seems nervous, darting his eyes from side to side. Frisk starts to draw her hand back to strike, but the world hitches, and she stumbles. Monster Kid doesn’t seem to notice.

She breathes out hard, brushing off her knees, and walks to the edge of town, where she knows she will find Papyrus. The town itself is eerily silent, and it seems as if everyone has left.

The air near the river grows thick with fog, and as she pushes through it, a silhouette takes form.

“Halt, human!” Papyrus said, and Frisk marched forward.

“Hey, quit moving while I’m talking to you,” he shrieks, and Frisk stops, tapping her foot. She is willing to humor him, wondering what his last words will be. Besides, this is new.

“I, the Great Papyrus, have some things to say.” Frisk grits her teeth. “First: you’re a freaking weirdo!” At this she grins nastily. “Not only do you not like puzzles. But the way you shamble about from place to place… The way your hands are always covered in dusty powder. It feels… like your life is going down a dangerous path. However! I, Papyrus, see great potential within you! Everyone can be a great person if they try!”

Is he really this dense? Frisk wonders, as a wave of uncomfortable feeling passes over her - some kind of pain, though surely it can’t be because of anything  _ she’s  _ done.

“And me, I hardly have to try at all!” The smile slips off of her face, to be replaced by a snarl. “Nyeh heh heh heh heh heh!!!”

Frisk starts forward again as he pauses.

“Hey, quit moving,” he says, stamping his foot on the slushy ground. “This is exactly what I am talking about! Human, I think you are in need of guidance!” A low growl escapes Frisk’s lips. “Someone needs to keep you on the straight and narrow.”

“And that’s  _ you _ ,” Frisk scoffs.

“Exactly!” Papyrus exclaims, missing the sarcasm entirely. “Worry not, human! I, Papyrus, will gladly be your friend and tutor. I will turn your life right around!!!”

She continues forward, tugging on her glove. 

“I see you are approaching,” Papyrus says, but his voice wavers. “Are you offering a hug of acceptance?” He really  _ is  _ this dense, Frisk thinks, and for some reason, a choked sob bursts from her like a punch to the stomach.

“Wowie!!” Papyrus continues, oblivious. “My lessons are already working!! I welcome you with open arms!”

She punches him, cracking his ‘battle body’ and his vertebrae. His skull falls, landing in his outstretched hand.

“W-well, that’s not what I expected,” Papyrus says, speaking with difficulty. His body turns to dust. “But… St...still! I believe in you! You can do a little better! Even if you don’t think so! I … I promise…” His head turns to dust. 

Frisk starts to laugh, hysterically, uncontrollably. Her laughter turns into a growl, a scream, rising from deep, deep within and tearing through her small frame. She lets it out, then steps through the just, stamping it into the snow.


	4. Edge of the Abyss

Edge of the Abyss

Frisk stalks through waterfall, searching every tiny crack for the monsters who hide away at the sound of her footfalls. When she finds them, she kills them. She feels nothing, except perhaps a dark mass writhing against the wall around her heart. She cannot feel, not now.

Some time though her journey, in the normally featureless blue walls of Waterfall, Frisk spots a grey door. Curious, she opens it.

Inside the small grey monster kid waits.

“Frisk,” she says, in her sweet, quiet voice, and Frisk pales, a feeling of guilt washing over her.

“Frisk, you must remember why you do this. For life, not for the death.”

Tears run unbidden down her face. How could she have started to enjoy this - this genocide she was committing?

“Frisk, you are the hope of the underground. Stay determined!” She fades away, and Frisk clutches the hem of her sweater, sobs quaking her chest as remorse shoots through her veins like acid. She has to remember why.

Her hands shake as she continues to murder every monster, picking up a tutu and ballet shoes among the reeds, then buying a torn notebook and cloudy glasses from Gerson, who eyes her with disgust. She wants to apologize, over and over, but instead just bows her head and accepts his judgment. 

She recognizes the items as having once belonged to humans - humans children. How scared they must have been. How much like the monsters before her and the dust behind her they were. How could she -  _ for gaster for gaster for gaster _

Shyren lets out a strangled yelp as she is silenced for good. Frisk remembers the haunting melody she sang, and tears spring to her eyes.

Mad Dummy incorporates, and he smiles. Frisk had never seen that before. He is so  _ happy  _ … He was.

The Echo Flowers are silent.

Monster Kid runs up behind her, and Frisk’s heart freezes. Not Monster Kid, please,  _ no _ …

“Yo,” he said in a subdued voice. “Undyne told me to stay away from you. She said you… you hurt a lot of people. … But, yo, that’s not true, right?! …”

Frisk is silent, struggling to keep from bursting into tears or laughing from sheer overwhelming grief, she isn’t sure which.

“...yo… why won’t you answer me? A… a… and what’s with that weird expression?”

Frisk turns, heart trying to burst from her chest. She steps forward, forcing Monster Kid to back up.

“Oh…” he breathes. “Oh man… Man, my heart’s pounding right out of my chest… what would Undyne do?”

He squares his shoulders, facing Frisk defiantly. “Yo. Y-you’d b-better st-stop r-right where you are… Cause if you w-wanna hurt anyone else ...you’re… You’re gonna have to get through me, first.”

Despair cracks through Frisk’s soul, threatening to break it and send her plunging into the void of death. He’s so young, so selfless and brave.

“A… and...and…”

She raises the torn notebook, unable to put it off any longer.

As she throws it at him, a large shape takes the blow. Undyne stands before him, a gaping gash across her chest cutting straight through her armor.

Monster Kid’s eyes are wide, terrified.

“Undyne…” he quavers. “You’re… you’re hurt…”

“Hurt? It’s nothing.” Undyne manages half a grin as Frisk takes deep, shuddering breaths of relief. The choice is taken from her, she doesn’t have to kill him. Oh, god.

“Next time,” she continues, “listen when I tell you to leave, okay?”

“Undyne… I…” Monster Kid whimpers.

“I’ll take care of this,” Undyne insists, her expression becoming fierce. “Get out of here!”

Monster Kid edges away, then scuttles off, crying.

“...heh… ‘It’s nothing’...” Undyne rasps, dust beginning to waver from her legs. “No… s-somehow, with just one hit...I’m already...already...D...damn it… Papyrus…” Frisk heart drops like a stone. “Alphys… ASGORE… “Just like that, I… I’ve failed you.”

The dusting spreads, and Frisk turns away.

“No…” Undyne says, her trembling voice steadying. Frisk turns back to see her solidifying. “My body… It feels like it’s splitting apart.” Her legs still waver. “Like any instant, I’ll scatter into a million pieces. “But… Deep, deep in my soul. There’s a burning feeling I can’t describe. A burning feeling that WON’T let me die. This isn’t just about monsters, is it? If you get past me, you’ll… You’ll destroy them all, won’t you?”

No! Frisk cries with every corner of her broken, bleeding soul, but it is that very cry which keeps her silent.

“Monsters… Humans… Everyone… Everyone’s hopes. Everyone’s dreams. Vanquished in an instant.” Her voice begins to rise, growing louder, booming across the empty silence. “But I WON’T let you do that. Right now, everyone in the world…” She looks up, a determination staining her face fiercely beautiful. “I can feel their hearts beating as one. And we all have ONE goal. To defeat YOU. ”

Her smile grows, filling her face. “Human. No, whatever you are. For the sake of the whole world… I, UNDYNE, will strike you down.”

Her smile turns into a grinning snarl and light shoots out from her. Frisk blinks, tearstruck by the light. Undyne reappears, no longer wavering, clad in black armor with a purple soul on the front.

“You’re gonna have to try a little harder than THAT,” she shouts, and the battle begins.

She threw the notebook, drawing a gash across Undyne’s spear arm. Three slow-moving arrows approached her from the front in return. She held her soul-shield, trembling. Then she spun, as arrows cascaded at her from every direction.

Arrows slipped past her defense, striking her in the soul. They struck like shards of ice and fire, burning away her hope.

She attacked. Spun. Attacked. Spun. White spears targeted her, flying at her from every direction. Her soul cracked, crushed under the weight of mountains on her chest. It is like being ravished by burning hellfire along every inch of every limb that by right, she should no longer be able to  _ feel _ , while her insides crumple like tissue, shards of her soul tearing them to pieces. She reloads,

Panting, crying, she dry heaves at the save point just before the bridge. When she is finished choking on the memory of death, she stands, hand against the wall for support. Is this what she is doing to them. Oh, oh god, oh - they won’t be able to remember it - oh god, she has to remember that.

She waits at the bridge, knowing Undyne will come. But as she stands, awkwardly, staring Monster Kid down, Undyne doesn’t show up. 

Frisk starts to panic. She has to come, she is set in the timeline - oh. The trigger.

She slashes at Monster Kid. Undyne reappears, repeated her speech. Frisk shakes her head. So much courage. So much stupid, beautiful,  _ useless  _ courage.

This time Frisk eats a cinnamon bunny and makes it past the spears shooting up from the ground and she hops from foot to foot, past more hails of arrows, until the arrows reverse, striking her in the back.

Every bone in her body turns to powder, to dust, shooting out through her skin in tiny spears. It is unendurable, exquisite agony, as the pain increases towards infinity,

She is on the ground before the ominously twinkling save point. She narrows her eyes, glaring at it, and pushes herself to her feet.

This time she does not hesitate before striking at Monster Kid, knowing that no matter what, Undyne will take the blow. Though Undyne is one of her closest friends, next to Alphys, it is still better to strike her. She is strong. She can take it. She will defy her and endure until Frisk permanently strikes her soul.

She attacks, dodges, blocks, and dies. Halos of spears surround her, and she dives through the gaps. Spinning, moving faster. Farther each time, Undyne growing weaker, then reappearing refreshed, as Frisk’s soul aches, throbbing with each pulse with the memory of breaking. Multiple halos surround her at once, the spears driving the pieces of her soul apart. Acid spirals through her every vein and vessel, disintegrating her. She reloads.

This is the time. She strikes a hard blow, driving Undyne’s HP down. She dodges spears, flying thickly as the snow in Snowdin. Her soul trembles, held together with cinnamon bunny glaze and desperate hope.

She strikes. Undyne shakes, squeezing her good eye shut. “Damn… it…” she chokes. “So even THAT power… It wasn’t enough?... Heh…” she smiles sadly, “Heheheh…”

Her grin brightens her face as she smiles as widely as she can. “If you… If you think I’m gonna give up hope, you’re wrong. ‘Cause I’ve… Got my friends behind me.”

Undyne starts to drip. “Alphys told me that she would watch me fight you...And if anything went wrong, she would… evacuate everyone.”

Frisk heart swoops down with a feeling like traveling in a super-fast elevator. 

“By now she’s called ASGORE and told him to absorb the six human souls,” Undyne continues, “And with that power…”

She falls to her knees, melting. “This world will live on…”

Frisk lets out a cry, running to catch her as she falls, but instead is engulfed in a cloud of dust. She coughs, choking on it, eyes watering.

As she rubs the particles out of her crusted eyes, Frisk knows she cannot stop now. She uses her determination to put one foot in front of the other, her footsteps echoing loudly in the empty cavern. There is no one to hear them, no sound but the distant rushing of water and the growing hiss of steam.

Hellfire and Ruin

Frisk strides through Hotlands. She uses her mantra - Gaster. Gaster. Gaster. - to deflect the wounds every murder reflects back onto her own soul. She cannot completely avoid the remorse - instead she stores it away, to always remember the cost of what she has set out to do.

“Ahuhuhuhu,” Muffet giggles, as she walks into the spider’s lair. “Did you hear what she said?”

She pauses. “They said a human wearing a striped shirt will come through here.”

She pauses again. “I heard they hate spiders.”

Frisk lets out a hard breath as her chest tightens.

“I heard that they love to stomp on them.” Not true.

She wades through the thick webs.

“I heard that they like to tear their legs off.

She gradually becomes enmired. 

“I heard…” Muffet says, scuttling out of the darkness, “...that they have some awful taste. What a shame. A human comes through and they aren’t even  fit to be eaten. ~” Her voice is sing-song. “Oh well! Rotten ingredients can always be discarded. ~”

With a single blow from Frisk’s frying pan, Muffet’s eyes widen, and she poofs into dust. A single, brave spider comes forward, laying a flower on her dust.

Frisk fights back tears. Gaster.  _ Gaster. GASTER. _

It seems that no time passes until she arrives on Mettaton’s stage. She blinks, not remembering how she got there,

“My, my. So you’ve finally arrived,” he says, in a bold voice. “After our first meeting, I realized… something ghastly. You’re not just a threat to monsters… but humanity as well.”

Frisk just stares at him, too weary to even protest in her mind.

“Oh my,” he continues. “That’s an issue. You see, I can’t be a star without an audience. And besides… There are some people… I want to protect.”

Don’t be stupid, Frisk thinks. Please, don’t make me do this. Blooky is incorporeal, he’ll be fine, and mad dummy is already… al- You mean Alphys, don’t you? Oh, no.  Please…

She steps forward, and Mettaton laughs.

“Ah ha ha. Eager, as always, eh?”  _ No.  _ “But don’t touch that dial. There’s something you haven’t accounted for. As any true fan would know, I was first created as a human eradication robot. It was only after becoming a star that I was given a more… photogenic body. However. Those original functions have never been fully removed.”

Frisk takes a deep, tired breath. Is she even truly human anymore?

“Come any closer, and I’ll be forced to show you… My true form!”

Even Mettaton is afraid to fight. Blustery, forceful Mettaton… She steps forward.

“Fine then!” Mettaton crows, but his voice falters. “Rrrrready? Iiiiiiit’s showtime!”

Spotlights shine, dazzling Frisk, and Mettaton in a new, armored form appears through the blinking shadows.

One hit, and he closes his eyes, smoking and clattering as he shakes.

“Gh… Guess you don’t wanna join my fan club…?” he quips, then explodes.

Frisk is pushed back by the force of the blast, but steps through the smoke, into the waiting elevator. Her heart lightens just a little bit. At least the deaths are clean, one hit. One and done. And Her EXP is rising considerably. She won’t have to kill Alphys, or the all of other monsters. Asgore will be enough.

 


End file.
